


Can't Stand The Heat Of My Love, Stay Out The Kitchen

by trashfortimmy



Series: Quarantine & Chill [10]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Cooking Lessons, Daddy Kink, Domestic Boyfriends, Fantasy Fulfillment, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Negotiations, Oral Sex, Sharing Clothes, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Underwear Theft, secret blow jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashfortimmy/pseuds/trashfortimmy
Summary: Armie gives Tim an intimate cooking lesson and the boys negotiate a very quarantine-appropriate scene.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Quarantine & Chill [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686802
Comments: 66
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I'm back with yet another installment of fluffy, smutty, cracky loveliness with our boys because (hopefully, like you) I can't seem to get enough of them.
> 
> In a previous work belonging to this series, the boys had a text conversation where Timmy asked Armie to wrap him up in his arms and show him how to cook. Of course the convo quickly got pretty suggestive bc lbr it's Timmy (and it's Armie, lol), so I wanted to explore what that would be like for them to experience now that they're actually together. Armie knows Timmy pretty well by now, can read when he's turned on by or interested in something, so everything is safe, sane & consensual here.
> 
> This work will most likely have 3 chapters, the second 2 will be posted sometime after New Year's. Oh, and the title comes from a Cudi song :)
> 
> Here's some more domestic bliss, more teasing, and more smut (well, smut is later lol) for you. Yay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie unwittingly makes not one, but two, of Timmy's fantasies come true.

Timmy wanders into the kitchen while Armie is in the middle of cooking.

They’d just woken up from a nap together, Timmy taking a little longer in bed to snuggle into the sheets that smell like them and wake up slow, while Armie started on their dinner.

The first thing he sees is Armie standing in front of the counter, the tools and ingredients needed for their meal neatly piled around him. Armie’s got his back turned towards him, creating the perfect opportunity to stare unabashedly, which Timmy does. He freely rakes his eyes over Armie’s form, lingering especially on his shoulders and ass. He watches as his muscles shift with each movement he makes, notices the ease of him, the strength.

As he comes further into the room and over to Armie’s side, he gets a better view of him. Armie’s chopping the vegetables for their meal by rocking the knife against the cutting board in rhythm, blade never leaving the surface of the wood. Timmy is mesmerized by the elegant, fluid motions; he feasts his eyes on Armie’s hands, those long fingers, the smooth skin with its rough dusting of hair. Gazes at the perfectly cut slices of onions and zucchini, observes the way the knife glints as it moves up and down, catching the light. Soaks up the way Armie’s shirt moves against him, and reveals the outlines of his muscles as they move, too.

He realizes he’s been staring when Armie looks over at him, smiles. Doesn’t falter in his movements.

“How do you do that?” Timmy asks, feeling a bit in awe, a bit out of it. His voice is still rough with sleep.

“It’s easy,” Armie says casually, a smirk on his lips.

That snaps Timmy outs of it, and he rolls his eyes lightly. “Maybe for you, Master Chef,” he teases. Armie gives a chuckle and focuses back on the ingredients in front of him.

Then Armie stops, looks over at Timmy again, letting his knife hand go slack, scanning him over as if appraising him. Licking his lips.

“Come here,” he instructs, as he places the knife down on the cutting board.

Timmy peers at him for a second before sliding closer. His shoulder touches down on Armie’s and he’s promptly pulled to stand in front of the counter.

Armie tucks him against his front, both of them facing the board. Brings his arms around Timmy and covers both hands with his larger ones, directs one to fold around the handle of the knife and the other to grip carefully at the next vegetable to be chopped, a yellow pepper, then tucks his fingertips safely out of the way of the blade.

He feels warm where Armie is pressed against him.

Timmy’s right hand is guided to rock the knife against the board, mimicking Armie’s earlier solo motions, until they’ve built up a rhythm. Then their joined hands are encouraged to inch ever so slightly to the left as they continue to rock, until the blade comes into contact with the hunk of pepper and slices through it. The knife keeps moving and Timmy lets himself be led, lets his muscles be soft so Armie can guide him with ease. He looks down at their hands, watches as perfectly thin slices of pepper appear on the other side of the knife, fanning out in a neat pile in its wake.

 _This is easy_ , thinks Timmy. But then everything is easy with Armie, especially when he’s wrapped up in his arms.

Not only is this easy, but this is his actual fantasy coming true. He recalls a time when he’d only been able to talk to Armie via text or FaceTime, when the only option he’d had was fantasizing about him, pretending it was Armie’s hands on him when really they were his own. He’d found the detail about him being a chef for a living particularly good fodder for some of his early fantasies, imagining Armie wrapping him up exactly like he is now and showing him how to chop, how to toss things in a pan. What tools to use. Now that it’s actually happening, it feels a bit unreal.

Timmy grounds himself in the feeling of Armie behind him, pressed against him from chest to thighs, in the way his hands are gripping him, so sure and steady.

With the way his brain’s been occupied with remembrances and the unrealness of the situation, he’s let his hold on the knife go soft. Armie scoots the already cut peppers out of the way, brings over a new piece that needs to be chopped, closes his fingers more tightly around Tim’s hand. Urges to him to grip it harder.

_Grip on what?  
The knife?_

Timmy smirks to himself as he remembers the lines from their text conversation, when he’d been shamelessly flirting with Armie and letting him know how much he wanted his hands all over him, how much he’d been turned on by the idea of Armie guiding him like this. He’s tempted to point out the similarities with their current situation, but he decides to enjoy this fantasy-come-to-life privately, keeping it to himself. He focuses on gripping the knife more tightly, with purpose, while he remembers teasing Armie, what he’d said to insinuate his grip on something else entirely.

He keeps his private moment short and sweet, focuses on finishing chopping all the peppers, led by Armie’s skilled hand. Lets his hands be cupped in Armie’s larger ones to scoop all the cut pieces into a bowl, which is then placed next to a multitude of other small bowls with equally neatly chopped ingredients.

“Why do you do it like that?” he asks, when the pieces are nestled into the bowl, indicating the entire collection of them.

“It’s the mise-en-place. It’s how I usually get everything ready.”

Timmy knows he’s implying that it’s how he usually gets things done at work, but he guesses that most of his habits from the restaurant also translate into his kitchen at home.

“Putting in place…” he translates.

“Yeah, everything in its place,” Armie says, and Tim’s pretty proud of his accurate translation. “It’s how us chefs do things.” 

“At Glace too?”

“Yep. We assemble everything like this beforehand so that the actual cooking is easier. Especially when you’re working on the line. It’s all about precision and preparation, and then it all goes smoothly.” Armie is so knowledgeable, and Tim likes to listen to him explain just about anything.

“On the line?” Armie has told Timmy many details about his job, his coworkers, what they did when they were bored, how they all pulled together when they were slammed. But some of the terminology associated with professional cooking still eluded him.

“It’s kind of like an assembly line. Everyone has their little station, with their specific job, and everyone works on their own task. Your job might seem small and insignificant, but each person is extremely important to the whole thing. That’s what makes a kitchen work.”

“Hm,” Timmy muses.

He likes talking about this with Armie, hearing more about the details of his work, his life; likes how his voice sounds next to his ear, how it feels as it vibrates against him.

As he absorbs the information, mulling over how it’s similar to his own craft, the part about preparation especially -- although his own process with acting seems a lot messier than this -- he eyes the collection of little bowls in front of him, tries to imagine Armie preparing things in a similar way in his kitchen at work.

Then he’s moved over as Armie scoots them both in front of the stove, hands gripping Timmy’s hips lightly. Armie removes his hands far too quickly for Timmy’s liking, reaching for a spatula from its little holder on the counter instead. He hands it to Timmy, then folds his larger hand around both utensil and flesh. Uses his other hand to reach in front of both their bodies to turn on the stove. He deftly pushes and twists the knob, waiting for the clicks and the sound of the burner lighting, rests his hand back on Timmy’s hip when he’s done. Timmy sighs happily.

Once the pan is warmed up, Armie directs Tim to add the veggies one at a time, pouring the neatly cut slices from each bowl, then stirring cooperatively, all the components swirling together and setting off one fragrant aroma after another. In between additions, Armie throws in a few pinches of various spices, adding to the already pungent smells wafting from the pan. They keep stirring, and Timmy feels content, happy to watch the elegant way their combined grip moves the ingredients around the pan.

As they cook, Armie is soft and warm behind him, the heat from the stove warming him from the front.

He watches as the veggies brown and soften, grabbing a new bowl whenever Armie indicates it, adding each one to the sizzling pan and doing his best to follow Armie’s movements.

“Looking good,” he comments, taking in the colorful mixture in the pan, the delicious aromas floating around the kitchen. The ingredients are simple, but Armie is obviously some kind of food magician because it smells rich and complex.

Armie pauses their stirring, nuzzles his face against Timmy’s neck, right above the collar of his shirt, and he shivers despite the heat all around him. Unconsciously, he angles his head to give Armie better access and feels the soft brush of lips against his skin. Can feel himself pushing back into it, leaning against Armie slightly to absorb more of his touch.

Armie kisses his neck, lingers, then moves to adjust the heat of the burner.

“Almost done,” Armie tells him quietly.

Timmy watches the veggies as they’re swirled in the pan by the spatula in his grasp, Armie’s deft hand there to guide him, so steady and sure. While Timmy is sure he could currently do this with his eyes closed (with all the assistance he’s getting he barely has to think), he thinks Armie could probably actually cook with his eyes closed, without any guidance whatsoever.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Armie tells him, causing Timmy to huff a laugh.

“No, you are. Really good. It’s hot.” He doesn’t feel the need to hide how much he’s enjoying this, how much it’s affecting him right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhmm,” Timmy hums as he leans back further into Armie. He’s rewarded with the squeeze of a strong arm wrapping around his waist and the brush of a nose, then lips, against his neck, stopping at the spot just below his ear. He just barely resists moaning in response, redirecting his energy into stirring their food instead. Takes a breath and lets it out. Focuses back on the meal they’re making, how much he’s enjoying himself.

“I like doing this with you,” he says. And he does. Could do this forever with him.

Armie gives his neck another kiss, quick this time.

“It’s not nearly this relaxing at work.”

“I bet,” he says softly. His mind immediately conjures up images of Armie in his chef’s whites, his food-flecked apron, commanding the kitchen staff and cooking with ease. “I’d love to watch you sometime.”

“Well, the best you’ll be getting these days is watching me have boring Zoom meetings with the guys.” Timmy scoffs at that.

“Got any coming up?” he asks, jokingly.

“Yeah, tomorrow, actually. Why, you gonna watch us?” He knows Armie’s teasing him, poking fun, but Timmy can’t help the way arousal stirs in his belly at how Armie’s voice sounds right now, at his prolonged touch; how he’s got Timmy all wrapped up, how he’s been guiding him. The way he’s unknowingly making one of Timmy’s fantasies come true.

“Maybe,” Timmy says coyly, knowing he’ll probably end up watching, as he’ll be in the same room anyway, simply because there’s not much else to do or other places he has to be. As soon as the word leaves his lips, though, another fantasy springs to life in his mind: sucking Armie off while he’s on the call, putting his dick in his mouth and watching him try to control himself so that no one is the wiser.

The idea turns him on so much that he has to take a slow, deep breath to get centered again.

“I do like to watch,” Tim says, lightly, truthfully, once he’s got a hold of himself.

“I know.” Armie sounds like he’s smiling, or at least smirking, behind Tim. Arousal is now fully swirling around in his belly, and he once again marvels at how much Armie turns him on, and how quickly, too.

“You do?” Timmy teases, knowing full well he does. His words are light but his skin is prickling and his cock feels heavy.

“Mmm, yeah. But I also know you usually can’t help yourself from getting in on the action.” 

And Armie’s assessment is, of course, spot-on, as evidenced by the multiple times Timmy had commanded him to jerk himself off while he watched, tried not to touch him or get too close. One time he’d even instructed Armie to finger himself on the bed, while Timmy stood at the foot of it, occasionally palming at his cock. But in all the aforementioned incidents, Timmy didn’t last very long before he jumped on Armie and joined in the action, often taking over himself. He never could keep his hands off of Armie for very long, just didn’t have the patience or stamina for it.

“Do you want to be part of this meeting tomorrow?” Armie asks him. Timmy just huffs at the question - what would he have to contribute? “Want to show your pretty face on screen?” Timmy simply shrugs, knows Armie’s probably being silly, doesn’t think he’d actually want him to be present at the meeting. Armie gives him a kiss on the cheek, and drops it, for now.

Then they’re silent for a while, the veggies gently sizzling, the burner turned down low. 

Armie moves out from behind him to place the collection of small bowls in the sink, wipe down the counters. Timmy watches him work, imagines him doing all this in his chef outfit, with beads of sweat gathered on his forehead from the constant heat of the restaurant kitchen. 

Soon enough, he comes back to his spot, nestles himself against Timmy’s back, reaches around him to turn off the burner completely. Easily wraps his arms around him again when he’s done.

“So you don’t want to be on screen, but would you still want to be there?”

Timmy didn’t think Armie would keep going with this, but there must be a reason he won’t let it go. At first it seemed like he was joking, but Timmy entertains the possibility that maybe he’s serious. Maybe Armie wants him there, but he can’t figure out why.

“If you want...” he starts. “I mean, if I wouldn’t be in the way.” 

“You won’t be. Would you want to sit next to me?” 

“Sure,” he offers, placing his hands over Armie’s where they’re wrapped around his stomach.

Armie squeezes him tighter, brings his lips down to the skin of Timmy’s shoulder, speaks his next words against his skin.

“Or maybe you’d like to be on your knees for me?” 

The words send a shockwave through Timmy, totally unexpected as they are. The whole time he’d thought maybe Armie’d wanted him there for moral support, in case the meeting went sideways because the other chefs couldn’t all agree on a good solution -- or maybe he’d been joking, playing around. 

But is he serious? And can he read Timmy’s mind?

He leans back, turning his head to the side to get a look at Armie’s face. They find each other's gaze and Armie is, apparently, serious: his baby blues are twinkling, but honest and open, locking onto Timmy’s with an expression that seeks consent, that asks if this is indeed the direction the conversation should be going.

“Would you like that. Kneeling for me?” Armie asks, bottom tips of his pointy canines peeking through his tentatively knowing smile. Timmy’s entire body reacts to Armie’s words, the intensity of his gaze, and the man looks absolutely delighted.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Armie’s smile widens until his teeth are fully bared.

Timmy manages to get out a breathy “Yes,” feeling like all of the air in the room is thinner, suspended somehow.

“You'd like to be on your knees during my meeting, huh? Right at my feet, baby?” Timmy breathes out harshly, Armie’s words punching through him, making him feel like he’s under a spell, like he’s underwater. His voice is deeper, and it rumbles through Timmy from where they’re pressed together.

"Yeah..." he exhales. He's barely breathing, and not at all prepared for what Armie says next.

“And you’d probably like my dick in your mouth, too, wouldn’t you?”

Timmy almost gasps at the way Armie’s words make his fantasy spring to the forefront of his mind, the way the conjured images sharpen and fill with color. He can’t help the whine escaping his throat as his fingers dig a little harder into the flesh of Armie’s forearms.

Then Armie’s kissing him lightly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes again. Strokes a thumb across his stomach. Timmy just barely registers how Armie’s blues are darker now, can only imagine how his own must be glazed over. His breaths are shallow, and he feels like he’s floating, levitating.

“Would you want everyone to know how much you like to choke yourself on my dick?” 

And _holy fuck_ , if Timmy felt breathless before, it’s like all the oxygen is now completely gone.

“Armie…” After the name leaves his lips he’s totally out of air, having breathed it out along with those two syllables. They look at each other for a prolonged beat, and to Timmy, it feels like time has stopped entirely. Then Armie’s giant thumb is caressing his bottom lip, soft and slow. Timmy is so dazed that he barely registers the glint in the other man’s eye, the smirk creeping onto his lips.

“Or could you be nice and quiet so that no one knew what you were up to?”

He practically chokes on his own spit, and that gets him breathing again, air coming in and out in little gasps and puffs. Armie lays a hand over his heart, successfully grounding him a little, and he finds his breath. Taking another inhale, Timmy focuses on the weight and heat of Armie's hand on his t-shirt covered chest.

“Hm, baby? Want it to be our little secret?”

Timmy manages a nod this time, unsure if his voice is still working or not. He can barely even draw a proper breath anymore.

Armie looks at him for another moment, then places both hands firmly on his hips. “Turn around,” he softly commands.

He turns, grateful for Armie’s hands on him, because he feels unsteady in his dazed state. Those strong hands then come up to cup Timmy’s jaw, long fingers reaching around to the back of his neck, and he’s happy to be held. Armie’s fingers tighten on the side of his neck and his thumbs dig into the line of his jaw, tipping his face up slightly at just the right angle so they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes.

“You want to be my good boy and suck me while everyone is listening?”

 _Oh, fuck_. Timmy feels like the floor drops out from under him, like he’d just fall right through if it weren’t for Armie’s hold on him.

“Fuck,” he says out loud, but it only comes out as a slightly aspirated rush of air. 

Armie’s thumbs stroke across his cheeks. “You’re already doing such a good job staying quiet for me.”

And _oh, god_. What is this power that Armie has over him? This spell he can weave with his words? Timmy feels totally enchanted, is beyond thrilled that Armie’s on board with his little fantasy, that they seem to be on the same page, yet again. But he still hasn’t quite caught up with the fact that Armie really wants this, too; still feels surprised, a little too shocked to give any sort of response.

Timmy stares up at him, taking far too long to answer, and Armie keeps looking back, his eyes slightly darker than before. Those dark eyes scan Timmy’s face until he seems to make up his mind.

“On your knees.”

The words hit Timmy in a wave, all at once, and he feels taken under anew. His body starts to comply before his brain has even had a chance to process the command. He bends his knees, starts to sink down, drops to the floor with a _thunk_.

He finds himself at eye level with Armie’s crotch and stares at it hungrily, already salivating at the promise of sucking Armie’s dick, even more turned on by the fact that he’ll be trying to do it covertly.

Without thinking his hands fly to the waistband of Armie’s pants, and he grabs at the material, starting to pull. He feels like he’s in a frenzy, his only goal to get at Armie’s dick.

But then his hands are covered by Armie’s, stilled by their strong grip.

“Uh-uh, baby. Hands behind your back.”

Timmy whines, pouting, but obediently folds his hands behind him, then leans in until he’s pressing his face against Armie’s crotch, unable to keep from seeking contact with it. He finds the line of Armie’s dick with his forehead, rubs across it, feels its hardness as he smooshes his cheek against it. Tilts his head so his mouth is directly over it, opens his lips to let out a warm breath, feels Armie shudder. Mouths at his clothed cock until there's a hand in his curls, until he’s pulled back by his hair so he’s looking up at Armie now.

“Not now, baby. It’s time to eat.”

He whines again, tries to push into Armie’s crotch again, against the strong grip on his hair.

“Timmy…” Armie warns, gripping harder.

He goes still, giving in for now, is rewarded with a “Good boy.”

Looks up at Armie, finds his gaze laser-focused on his face, his eyes dark and hungry. He looks in control, although Timmy knows how easy it is to break him. Controls himself, for now, but can’t help the way his tongue peeks out between his lips, the way his eyes strain to dart down to Armie’s covered dick again.

The hand in his hair relaxes and strokes backwards, re-gripping at the side of his head. Pulls until his head tips up further, until he’s forced to look only at Armie’s face.

“Look at you. So eager already.” Timmy licks his lips, swallows back the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth. Nods as best he can against the strong hold on his curls, keeps his eyes trained on Armie’s. “You want my dick so badly, don’t you?”

“Please…”

“You still want to suck me off during my meeting?” 

Timmy nods. Says, “Yes, please.” 

“I’ll let you if you’re good.” There’s that smirk again. He sags into Armie’s grip, is rewarded with a smile and a loosening of the grasp on his hair.

“Daddy,” he whines, desperate for Armie, his brain unable to let go of the images it’s conjured up. He’s still turned on as hell, his cock now straining between his legs. He grabs onto the thighs in front of him to ground himself, and Armie allows it, strokes across his cheek tenderly.

“Please, I’ll be good for you.” He’s begged so much by now, hopes Armie understands how much he really wants this.

“I know you will, baby.” Armie’s thumb moves to stroke across his bottom lip and Timmy can’t help biting it, taking the tip in his mouth and sucking lightly.

Looking up at Armie from underneath his eyelashes, he moves his head slightly so more of Armie’s finger disappears between his lips. He notices Armie’s mouth fall open slightly and a spark ignites in him, a determination to bring the man under his control, even though Timmy’s the one on his knees.

He doesn’t stop moving until Armie’s entire thumb is in his mouth, then pushes his tongue firmly against the underside and hollows his cheeks.

But he doesn’t get very much time to truly suck at the finger before it’s yanked out of his mouth and used to grab at his shoulders, as Armie’s other fingers join in the effort, his other hand helping too, and Timmy is yanked up by his armpits.

Doesn’t have time to process what’s happening, or to find his footing, before Armie’s pinning him against the counter, grinding their hardened dicks together, letting Timmy feel how much this has affected him already, kissing him to within an inch of his life.

“The food…” he manages to get out between kisses, just barely succeeding in not bursting out laughing, not melting into the floor.

Armie grabs his hair again, angles his head to the side with a rough tug, mouths at the skin of his neck, sucking hard for all of two seconds. Then lines up their faces again and Timmy takes in the light sparkling in his eyes, the smile playing on his lips.

“Brat,” Armie tells him, fondly.

Brings his hand down to hold his jaw and gives him a last hard, but quick, kiss. Lets him go, moves to the cabinet to grab plates so he can serve them dinner. Timmy takes a moment to breathe before he moves, too, grabbing the silverware and napkins needed for their meal, placing everything down on the counter for them both. Next he sets about the task of filling their glasses with each of their preferred drinks.

When he’s done, the table is set somewhat formally, all-white plates surrounded by carefully placed mealtime accoutrements: complementary colored napkins folded neatly, laid underneath perfectly parallel silver utensils. The drinks Timmy’s prepared are taken to the table and placed strategically within reach. Armie then piles their food onto a lightly patterned enamel serving platter, and when paired with carved wooden serving utensils, the whole meal takes on a quality of elegance, refinement. It looks beautiful.

They settle into their seats at the dining table, each taking a turn to serve themselves, then moving their silverware and tucking their napkins into their laps before they dig in. The first bite is heavenly, and Timmy hums around his forkful.

“This food is amazing,” he compliments.

“A great meal is only as good as the chefs who made it. It was a team effort.”

Timmy takes another bite, chews slowly as to savor it fully. Swallows it down, feels the food warm him from the inside.

“Now I know how to cook at least one meal,” he jokes, commenting on his mostly-terrible cooking skills, his best dish up to this point being fairly shitty pasta with canned sauce and pre-grated cheese.

“You’ll be a pro in no time, especially with my expert help,” Armie jokes right back, and Timmy loves him like this, all full of himself and braggadocious. Loves Armie’s confidence in the kitchen, the ease with which he performed every step required to make the meal, how good he’d been at guiding Timmy through the process as well. He loved being taught by Armie, wouldn’t mind if it were a regular thing from now on.

“Will you teach me again?” Timmy looks at him, catches the twinkle in his eye. Watches as Armie chews, trying to keep his lips closed around a smirk until his food is swallowed.

“Next time, I’ll show you how to chiffonade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy escalates his relationship with Armie's underwear drawer, then gets down to business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished this chapter sooner than expected, so here ya go. Planning to write one more chapter for the conclusion of the Zoom blowjob and a little something extra too.
> 
> Enjoy <3

“Tell me again.”

Armie’s got Timmy’s face between his hands, forcing him to hold his gaze as they stand together in the living room.

Last night, after they’d talked through their planned scene in detail, Armie had played with Timmy’s cock until he’d been begging for release, had tortured him for so long that he’d practically passed out from the force of his eventual orgasm. And once Armie’d cleaned him up, he’d fallen soundly asleep.

Now, he licks his lips, trying to remember everything they’d agreed on. Knows that Armie wants to hear it out loud. Takes a breath to tell him.

“I’m going to get on my knees for you, take out your dick and suck you off while you’re on your call. And I won’t make a sound.” Saying the words makes him a little breathless, but he’s proud of the way he’s kept his voice steady, even.

“Good boy,” Armie purrs at him, thumbs stroking at his jaw, smile widening on his face. With his mouth slightly open and sharp canines peeking through, Armie’s smile is beginning to look a little predatory, his eyes dark and intense, and immediately Timmy’s weak in the knees; he almost feels like dropping down right here, right now.

But then Armie’s kissing him softly, lingering, pulling back. Timmy keeps his eyes closed.

“So, are you going to show your face on screen?” 

Opening his eyes, he lets them roam around as he considers the options. His field of vision is pretty narrow at this distance, is mostly taken up by Armie’s lovely face, wolfish smile still in place.

“Can I surprise you?”

Armie looks a bit surprised now, but only for a moment, before his smile returns as he rubs his thumbs lightly over Timmy’s cheeks, considers him.

“Sure,” he says, eyes creasing at the corners even further. “I may surprise you too, though.”

Timmy wants to ask how, but knows Armie probably won’t tell him. He considers a few of the possibilities of what that surprise could entail and a thrill runs through him. He has to admit that he likes the not-knowing, the bit of mystery among all the other things they’d hammered out, agreed upon.

“Deal,” he tells Armie, pushing into the hands still grasping his face to connect their lips again, this kiss lingering, too.

When they pull back, their eyes lock, clinging to each other’s gaze for a long moment. From the growing twinkle in Armie’s eyes, the smirk starting on his lips, Timmy knows he’s not done yet.

“Are you really going to be able to stay quiet, choking on my dick?”

He can’t help the way Armie’s words make his breath stutter slightly, but he recovers quickly, wanting to torture him a bit in return.

“Are you?” he shoots back, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, matching the one plastered on Armie’s face now.

Armie’s hand moves down to wrap lightly around his throat, thumb pressing into his jaw to tip his head back a little bit. Timmy holds his gaze, recognizes the dark look in his eyes.

“Be good,” Armie tells him.

“Yes, Daddy,” he breathes.

With that, he’s let go. He turns around to walk away, jumps slightly when he feels a light slap on his ass. He swivels his head around just long enough to catch the last of the smirk on Armie’s face, keeps walking.

Timmy goes to the kitchen and makes himself a drink. Decides to make Armie one, too. Mixes orange juice and a splash of vodka (it’s just about the only drink he knows how to make, simple as it is) as he hears Armie start the call, hears voices give their greetings, ask _How’s it going?_

“It’s good, yeah. Been tough not seeing your ugly mugs every day, though,” Armie tells them.

Timmy smiles at the good-natured teasing that ensues between them, takes a sip of his drink. Decides it’s plenty strong for an early afternoon libation and puts both the ingredients he’d used back where he found them. Peers over at Armie where he’s seated on the couch, stares at the back of his head and tries to make out the other faces on the screen.

He takes another swig of his drink before setting it down, then picking up Armie’s, starting to walk over to him. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad if he did let the others see his face on screen after all, show himself off a little.

He arrives at Armie’s side just as another face on the screen is saying, “Okay guys, we should start. Boss?”

He holds the drink out for Armie, causing the man to look up at him, first with surprise written on his face and then with a smile as he eyes the drink, then Timmy’s face again, stretches his hand out to accept it. Timmy lets their fingers brush, notices the way Armie’s considering him, the playful look on his face.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, which is immediately followed by an eruption of voices from the computer, various _oohs_ and cheers and laughter all overlapping and cutting each other off. Armie is smirking over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, watches the faces on the screen with a smug look on his own.

“Can we see him?” one of the voices asks.

Armie looks up at him again, eyes questioning, and Timmy smiles, moves to sit down. He plops himself down at Armie’s side and immediately tucks himself against him.

“Hi,” he says simply, laughing at the chorus of enthusiastic greetings he gets in return. 

“Is this Timmy?” a face on the screen is curious to know.

“Yep, he’s the one,” Armie says, throwing an arm around his waist. Timmy smiles again, heart leaping at the phrasing of his response. The smile stays on his face as the various people on the call give their congratulations and compliments to them both. He loves being the center of attention but knows that this is Armie’s call, that really he’s not supposed to be seen on screen, not for long anyway.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’ll let you get back to it,” he tells them, feeling Armie squeeze his arm around him.

He snuggles further into Armie’s side, telling him lowly, “Enjoy your drink,” then louder towards the laptop camera, “Nice to meet you all.” 

There’s a swarm of voices again, overlapping and enthusiastic shouts of “Nice to meet you!” and “You too!” and even an elongated “Timmyyyyy!” He gives a little wave to the camera, a kiss to Armie’s cheek, and then he’s off.

As he walks away, he hears the voices on screen giving Armie their approval, teasing him for keeping Timmy away from them for too long. He smirks as he hears Armie telling everyone to “Settle down,” imagines him blushing as he does so.

Timmy goes back to the kitchen to finish off his drink, wash and rinse out his glass. Then he heads to the bedroom, checks his phone, brushes his teeth, sees if there’s anything that needs to be put in the laundry. Places a few items in the hamper, straightens out the bedsheets from their sleep-rumpled state. 

Taking a last look around the room, he gives a nod of approval to himself, deeming it clean enough (for now). He passes by the dresser on the way out and something makes him stop. Turning towards it, he eyes one of the top drawers, the one in the middle that contains Armie’s collection of saucy undergarments. As if the drawer is suddenly magnetically charged, and he’s got the matching but opposite pole, he feels drawn towards it. Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of the drawer, his fingers finding the handle and resting gingerly upon it.

He’s been wearing Armie’s clothes so often he sometimes forgets they’re not his own. Has gotten used to them hanging loose on his frame, used to rolling up waistbands or tucking in hems. Timmy thinks he’s worn just about everything from every spot in Armie’s closet, every drawer in his dresser. 

Well, every drawer except this one.

His heart rate picks up as he opens the drawer slowly, just a few inches at first. The items inside have never touched anything but the tips of his fingers. He wants them to touch more of his body, to envelop him, to become like a second skin. The undergarments still feel a bit like forbidden fruit, but that only makes him open the drawer faster, open it all the way. The opened drawer is truly a treasure trove, the garments like a precious rainbow of riches with their many colors and forms.

As he puts his hand in the drawer, his mouth goes dry. He remembers the first time he’d done this, back when he was new to Armie’s apartment, Armie’s things. When he’d come across this very drawer while Armie was showering, in search of a pair of casual boxers to replace the ones he’d gotten his jizz all over, had instead (accidentally) come across this little collection of risque ones, lingered over them (not so accidentally) as he’d looked his fill, fondled a few of the undies with devotion and disbelief. That first time had only been a quick exploration, a little peek into the drawer before he’d felt overwhelmed and closed it, moved onto other drawers and found what he was looking for.

But this time he wants to savor it.

He slides his hand into the drawer, his eyes sliding shut in tandem. Without his sight, he lets himself feel the soft fabrics, the different weaves of cotton and mesh, distinguishing the variations in texture and type by touch only. His fingers caress the elastic edges, smooth along straps, poke through holes. This time his hand slides all the way to the back of the drawer, bumps into something cool, metal maybe.

 _Wait_.

He opens his eyes.

Had there been something metal in this drawer before?

His fingers latch onto the metal thing, pull it through the jumble of fabrics and towards himself. Once it’s out of the pile, he can clearly see the light glinting off the metal o-rings, the smooth leather fabric, the buckles that fasten everything together.

Suddenly, he feels lightheaded with the way all the blood’s suddenly rushed to his cock, dizzy with the way his mind is spinning. He turns the garment over, eyeing the straps, fills in with his imagination all the places that would be left exposed.

Like in the back, where there seems to be a distinct lack of coverage.

So Armie’d had this pair all along? Or had he bought it recently and just not bothered to show him yet? And _why not_?

Instead of dwelling on those questions, Timmy decides to find out if there’s anything else in this drawer of wonders that he’s yet to discover. He places the tantalizingly strappy leather number on top of the dresser carefully and grabs another handful of fabric inside the drawer, turning it over to see what else it could possibly reveal. 

His eyes feast on the kaleidoscope of fabrics, catching sight of a few shiny ones in the pile of otherwise matte material; noticing the clamped teeth of a zipper; tallying the number of straps he can see, their various thicknesses and placements, getting distracted, losing count.

As he gazes at the whole collection of them, he gets the moderately sinful idea to put a pair on himself, to wear them under his sweatpants when he goes back out in the living room to suck Armie off discreetly. He likes the idea of wearing something for Armie, something that belongs to Armie, but keeping it to himself. A little more blood flows into his dick as he thinks about the slight naughtiness of it all, the secret-within-a-secret to which Armie will be none the wiser -- at least for the duration of his virtual meeting.

The only problem is that there are so many pairs to choose from, he doesn’t know which one to pick.

He rifles through the drawer for a bit longer, eventually settling on an off-white colored jockstrap with a little mesh pouch at the front. Takes off his sweatpants, leaving them in a puddle at his feet, and strips off his own underwear, tossing them into the almost-full laundry hamper. He remembers nearly losing his mind the first time he’d seen Armie’s ass in a jockstrap, can only imagine Armie’s reaction if he were to see Timmy in this particular pair.

Threading his legs through the appropriate holes, he pulls on the underwear, letting the elastic straps snap lightly against his skin. This pair must be particularly tight on Armie, because they fit him perfectly. The elastic hugs his hips and curves snugly around each ass cheek. He looks down and sees where the mesh is bulging around his cock, notices how his balls are pulling the material down slightly. He already loves the way the underwear looks on him, but wants to feel it too, just has to touch; he reaches down and rubs his fingertips over the place where skin meets mesh, marvels at how the caress is only slightly muted by the material, how it basically feels like he’s touching himself full-on. He shudders, then quickly pulls his fingers away.

He still has to make good on his promise to suck Armie off _while_ he’s on his Zoom call, so he thinks he better not delay any further. Pulls his sweatpants back on, takes a moment to settle into the feeling of the additional layer of soft cotton against the mesh pouch of the jockstrap, takes a few steps and shivers a little at how everything rubs together.

“Okay, so I’ll get Greg and his crew on the plexiglass shields. Should we move on to menu items?”

There’s words of assent from the voices on the call as Timmy walks out in the main space of the apartment, striding towards the couch. Armie’s sitting there, looking awfully focused, holding a notepad and pen in his hands that Timmy hadn’t noticed before. The drink he’d made him sits to the side of the computer, half-gone.

“Since it’s all gotta be to go, let’s keep everything to small dishes and simple bites. For now, we can just get the basic concept of the dish down and finesse the packaging and presentation later,” Armie tells his fellow chefs, twirling the pen between his fingers. 

More noises of assent mixed in with a few declarations of “Oui, chef” follow Armie’s set-up. 

Seeing Armie in charge like this is hot - he’s imagined Armie cooking many times, but he’s never imagined him _running_ the kitchen, giving out orders and surveying the entire crew to make sure things are running smoothly. Timmy feels his pulse quicken; the other people on the call have now referred to him as both ‘Boss’ and ‘Chef’, and that turns him on, too. As he approaches the couch where Armie’s sitting, he feels his cock pushing harder against the mesh of his borrowed jockstrap.

But right now he can’t focus on his own growing arousal; he’s here to take care of Armie, so he turns his attention to that instead. 

There’s the problem of _how_ to get into position to suck him off - the coffee table is pulled tightly into the couch, just barely leaving enough room for Armie’s long legs, which are folded slightly into the small space between the two pieces of furniture. He stands there for a moment, scrutinizing Armie’s position and the space around him, working out a way to get between his legs. Tim stares at him, runs his hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his neck, while Armie keeps his focus on the computer screen in front of him, doesn’t look up at Timmy once. 

After a few moments of mental calculations, he figures out the best way to get himself in there is to crawl under the table, relying on Armie a bit to rearrange his legs so there’s enough space for him, and on his own agility to slide smoothly into place and not bump into anything or make too much noise.

This approach is slightly awkward, but he sees it as the only option, as he doesn’t want to interrupt the Zoom call or be obvious about it by going around to the other side of the table where he might be seen. Their agreement had been for Timmy to do all of this as clandestinely as possible, so that’s what he’ll try to do. 

He has to trust that Armie has angled the camera in a way in which his head wouldn’t be visible once in position, but he decides to mostly let Armie worry about that. 

Taking a breath, he drops down to all fours, ducking his head under the table opposite where Armie’s sitting, starts crawling towards him, hands and knees sliding over the soft carpet. He keeps his head hanging down so he doesn’t bump it against the table, tries to make his movements as smooth and quiet as possible. His heart is still beating quickly, and he forces himself to breathe steadily so he doesn’t fuck this up so soon. He’s just begun and is already experiencing a heady rush of arousal at being on his knees for Armie, at what he’s about to do for him, his dick hanging heavy between his legs.

The top of his head is the first thing to make contact, bumping softly into Armie’s shin. He nudges at it, trying to get Armie to move wordlessly. At first he doesn’t move at all, only shifting when Timmy transfers his weight to lift a hand and push against his leg, their combined efforts making it slide to the side.

“Alright, caprese with balsamic caviar. That’s perfect. What else we got?” Armie asks as he shifts. Timmy brings his hand to the other leg, pushes against it to get it to move to the other side. Timmy watches as the appendage stretches out slightly, licks his lips at the sight of both of Armie’s spread legs, creating the perfect space for Timmy to nestle in between. 

He bumps into Armie’s shin again, keeps contact as he runs his head up his leg, nuzzling into him as he goes, arriving at his thigh, resting a cheek against it. Just relaxes against him, gets distracted by the smell of him, breathes him in. Reminds himself that he can’t stay like this for too long, has to get on with it sooner rather than later. 

Scooting his legs forward, he brings his hands to Armie’s thighs, smooths along the fabric of his pants. Brings his head upright, chin still touching down on Armie’s cloth-covered flank. 

Armie readjusts in response, moving his notepad in front of himself, and Timmy assumes it’s to help block the view of his head from the camera. He feels Armie rest the notepad against his head for a moment, feels it flatten his curls as he scribbles down more menu items as they’re rattled off by the other chefs.

“Savory marshmallow? Nice. Could you put some of that tarragon we dried in it?”

Timmy smooshes his face between Armie’s legs, listens for a moment from the dark cave formed by his thighs, the notebook on his head helping to block out the light.

“Yeah. And there’ll be maple caramel, too,” the voice on the call answers.

“Sounds delicious.” Timmy can tell that he’s smiling, can’t help himself from smiling against his thigh at the warm timbre of his voice.

He pushes further into the cave of Armie’s thighs until his nose bumps up against his clothed cock. He can feel the heat coming off his dick, from the delicate skin all around it, his hot breath puffing into the semi-enclosed space, adding to the already stuffy atmosphere. Although it’s stifling and difficult to draw a fresh breath, Timmy would happily stay here all day. 

It gets even more oppressive when Armie leans forward, locking Timmy’s head in place with his stomach as he bends, making it almost impossible for him to move, pushing him down further into his cock. But it’s only for a moment, as Armie is leaning back up almost immediately, and Timmy assumes this move was crucial in helping to adjust the angle of the laptop, in making sure Timmy would be less visible on screen as he got to work.

He lifts his head, finally able to take a cool breath, and brings his hands to the waistband of Armie’s sweatpants, makes quick work of tugging it down. He uses one hand to help take out Armie’s dick, then hooks the elastic under his balls to keep him exposed. As he takes in the sight of his naked cock, his mouth hangs open slightly at the realization that Armie isn’t wearing any underwear. He can’t think of when he would have had a moment to take them off. Wonders if he’s been going commando this entire time. Or if he’d simply tucked his underwear out of the way in preparation for this very moment. 

But he doesn’t have any room to investigate, the sweatpants tucked snugly out of the way, just enough to display his dick. Nor does he have the time, since he wants to get Armie’s cock in his mouth as soon as possible, to suck him while he’s still on his call. Wickedly, he even wants to make it difficult for Armie to concentrate, to keep his voice steady. Wants to do such a good job sucking his dick that Armie loses the thread of conversation, loses control.

Bringing his face back down, he noses at Armie’s naked cock. Inhales, letting the familiar scent overtake him. Armie’s smell surrounds him, makes his mouth water. He angles his head to the side, sticks out his tongue, touches down on the soft skin of the shaft. What he really wants to do is suck on his balls, press wet kisses from the base all the way to the tip. But he knows he can’t be noisy. Can’t make a sound. Has to find a way to use his mouth quietly.

“And that’s something you could make to go?” Timmy’s been so concentrated on the task at hand that he’s missed a lot of Armie’s conversation, picking up and losing the thread of it at random intervals. But he doesn’t mind much, knows what he’s here to do, is perfectly fine with the chatter happening between Armie and the people on screen being background noise.

He slides his tongue back and forth over Armie’s dick, grazing over his balls on the way down, and curling his tongue and on the way back up, he tries to wrap his tongue around the whole thing. It’s so thick that he only gets about halfway, feels his hole clench at the thought of how much it stretches him. He wants to moan.

Wants to make obscene noises, slurp at him, wants to talk to him and beg for his come. 

“So you’ll nitro the blue cheese?” Armie pauses to wait for the answer. “Okay, that’ll go nicely with the scallops.”

The continuing conversation reminds him that he’s got to stay quiet. Tells himself that even if he can’t be loud, he can still give Armie the most magnificent blow job he’s ever received. Can still try and make his words falter, his breath uneven.

At this point, he would usually tease Armie a little more, but this time he’s got to get down to business. Opening his lips, he runs them up the length of his shaft, all the way to the tip, then lowers down again so his mouth closes around the spongy head. Sucks at it lightly, barely pulsing on it.

“Candied fruit would work really well with that,” Armie muses, and Timmy waits til he’s speaking again to make his next move. “I’ll contact our supplier and see if they have--”

Interrupting him, Timmy sinks down on his dick all in one go, letting the tip graze the back of his throat, pushing past his gag reflex with ease. 

“Anything for us,” Armie finishes, and his voice is a little breathier; Timmy isn’t sure he’s the only one that’s noticed.

Timmy’s had lots of practice sucking Armie’s dick at this point, has gotten used to the size of him, the girth; is familiar with how he feels inside the wet cavern of his mouth, how much his lips are stretched each time. How to breathe around it, how to stay quiet when he’s taken the full length of it.

With his cock in Timmy’s throat, Armie clears his.

“What about a dessert?” He’s back to speaking normally again, but Timmy is elated that he’s been able to affect Armie like this, and so quickly, too. With his mouth stuffed full of cock, he’s unable to break out into a full grin, but he feels the corners of his lips turn up slightly where they’re wrapped around the base of Armie’s thick shaft.

He breathes around him, keeping him inside his throat for a few moments, savoring the feel of being stuffed so full. Barely moves his head up and down, letting Armie’s cock fuck his mouth deep, then winds his head back and forth in little figure eights. He’s only just started and already he’s showing off for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a fic tumblr!!
> 
> You can see the new to-go menu for Armie's restaurant (and more!) [here.](http://trashfortimmyx.tumblr.com) Hope you check it out!
> 
> Just FYI: In my head, the restaurant is one of those new-fangled ones with a prixe fixe menu that's meant to be tasted from start to finish, and features lots of molecular gastronomy. They haven't been open due to the restrictions from Covid, but now they're adapting to the times and making a to-go counter with new food items and safe working spaces.
> 
> Til next time...  
> xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cough cough*

Timmy pulls his head up so just the tip of Armie’s cock is still between his lips, uses his tongue to lick at the slit.

“Okay, let’s move on,” Armie starts, pausing to take a deep breath before he continues. “Dessert?”

His speech seems to have changed slightly, using shorter sentences and single words to express himself, and Timmy is pretty smug about that. Loves that it’s a challenge for Armie to hold himself together, that he has to take in extra air to keep going. To keep what they’re doing a secret.

Wonders if Armie wants Timmy to make him come while he’s on the call. Wonders how he would keep it together if he did.

But right now he’s happy to draw it out, isn’t in any rush to get Armie to his orgasm. Just keeps running his tongue over his slit, sucking at his tip, listening for any more signs that Armie is struggling, that he’s enjoying this. People on the call are pitching their ideas for a sweet item on the menu, but Timmy is laser-focused on Armie, his body, his sounds. The conversation on screen is only background noise to the reactions of the man in front of him.

He pulls off to breathe and Armie sighs. He takes a breath himself, licks his lips to re-wet them, then dives back down in one smooth motion. This time it sounds like Armie chokes on his own spit, and he starts coughing, obviously trying to tamp down the spasms so he won’t override the person who is currently speaking. Someone on screen asks if Armie is alright, and that makes Timmy giddy, makes him want to smile. Starts pulling off so he can do just that, let his lips stretch happily before he starts mouthing at Armie’s balls or something. He wouldn’t mind a bit of a breather.

But Armie obviously has other ideas, uses the excuse of the coughing fit to lean forward to swipe his drink off the coffee table, pushing Timmy down again. A slight noise escapes Timmy’s throat, unable to help himself, surprised as he is, and Armie covers it up with another cough, like he’s clearing his throat of the last of whatever had recently impeded his breathing. 

Timmy assumes he’s taking a sip of his drink in the moment of silence that follows, but he hasn’t leaned back up yet. He’s still trapped by Armie’s stomach, head smooshed into the space between his legs, cock hitting his gag reflex head-on. He digs his fingers into Armie’s thighs, trying to regain some control, trying to breathe. Trying not to make a sound. He wants to be so good.

Obviously Armie doesn’t have the same intentions, because the next moment he’s caging Timmy in further by bringing his arm down over his lap, forearm resting across his thighs as if he’s using it to prop himself up. It presses into the back of Timmy’s neck, trapping him there, keeping him down on Armie’s dick while he speaks casually to the camera.

“Okay guys, this was a really great session, but I think we should leave it there. Don’t want any of us to get burned out too quickly.” There’s a few chuckles in response. “Text me any ideas or questions you have, and I’ll let you know when the next meeting will be.” 

If Tim wasn’t trying so hard to keep his own reactions in check, he’d be impressed at Armie for speaking so eloquently, if not a little rushed.

There’s another round of “Oui, chef,” and Timmy realizes he’s hard. Very hard. He’d been so focused on Armie this whole time, on keeping quiet, that he hadn’t even taken stock of his own state of arousal for a while now. 

He gets harder still when Armie leans over a little bit more, presumably to reach for the computer so he can end the call. The move presses his dick impossibly further into Timmy’s throat, and he can’t help the small sounds that are escaping him. He’s trying so hard to fight his body’s natural reactions because he _wants_ Armie’s dick in his throat, wants to choke on it, wants to be held down and made to take it.

Suddenly Armie leans back up and Timmy pulls off a little bit and raises his eyes to his face for the first time since they started. He’s chugging his drink, downing the rest of it all in one go, then putting it down on the couch somewhere, tossing the notebook carelessly aside, clearly unconcerned about where either of them land.

“Fuck, baby.” He flops back against the couch cushions, hands coming to tangle in Timmy’s curls. Their gazes lock and Timmy feels his dick twitch, keeps looking at Armie’s face even as he closes his eyes.

“You’re so fucking good,” Armie praises him, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “Your mouth…”

He trails off and starts fucking up into said mouth, hips raising and lowering off the couch in staccato bursts, hands gripping onto the hair at the sides of Timmy’s head.

Raising up a bit on his knees, Timmy angles himself better to receive Armie’s thrusts. Since he doesn’t have to worry about the dangers of being seen on camera anymore, he’s got a good bit more room to work. He takes it, bobbing his head enthusiastically in counter-rhythm to Armie, wanting to make it good for him.

“You liked that?” Armie murmurs at him, looking into his eyes now. “You liked having my dick in your throat while I’m working?”

Timmy hums, closes his eyes, letting Armie’s words wash over him. He always knows exactly what to say to wind Timmy up, to make him feel wanted.

“You were so fucking good, baby,” he tells him, repeating the sentiment. He’s still steadily thrusting up in Timmy’s mouth, tightens the grip on his hair and starts pulling him down on every upward thrust, taking over his movements, deciding how deep to go for him. “You tried so hard to stay nice and quiet, didn’t you?” 

Timmy moans.

“Yeah? You like that? You like sucking me off while anyone could hear you?”

He takes a quick breath for his next moan but is interrupted by being pulled completely down on Armie’s dick again. 

“Oh, fuck,” Armie groans, his voice deeper and gravelly, sounding sexy as hell. As his cock fully enters Timmy’s throat again, he holds him there, panting. Timmy’s breathing hard through his nose, both their breaths audible in the now-quiet of the room. He follows the pressure of Armie’s hands and leans into it, wanting to choke on his dick, wanting it to fill him up.

He swallows around him, hopes Armie likes how wet it all feels. He hasn’t had a chance to collect much of the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth, hasn’t really cared to. Knows he’s drooling, knows his spit is probably leaking out of the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the couch, seeping into the material and making a mess. Not that he thinks Armie will mind. He’d once told him that he likes it messy, knows now that Armie likes it that way, too.

With the call no longer active, Timmy can be as loud as he wants. He doesn’t try to stop any of the sounds he wants to make anymore, letting his body react naturally. Now, every time Armie’s cock hits the back of his throat, a little noise escapes and he loves it. He loves Armie’s dick being so deep inside him, loves being able to show him how much he can take. When he pulls back halfway to breathe he feels dizzy with it all. 

“So good,” Armie tells him again, and Timmy preens at the praise, redoubles his efforts. Brings one hand to fondle at Armie’s barely-exposed balls, fingers brushing up against the soft material of his sweatpants as he caresses the slightly wrinkled skin while he continues sucking at him.

Armie’s fingers grip at his curls, then one hand lets go to travel down to his chin, caress at his jaw, trace over his stretched lips. The tip of his thumb pushes against the corner of Timmy’s mouth, entering slightly. Timmy leans into it, takes a little more of the digit inside him, liking the idea of being stretched even further by everything that Armie’s got.

“That’s right, relax. Just take it,” Armie encourages him, but really, he doesn’t need any encouragement. He would gladly take it all, would take anything Armie’d give him. He feels Armie’s hand slide from his curls to the back of his neck, relaxes, lets his muscles be soft to show him how much he wants this.

“Good boy.” Armie’s words bring on a heady rush of arousal, of satisfaction. He loves knowing that he’s being good for Armie, loves that what that entails matches up with his own desires. He pushes back into Armie’s hand, feels a bit of resistance for a moment before he’s released; he pulls off, finger and cock both slipping from his mouth. 

The moment he pops off Armie’s dick he’s panting heavily, welcoming full, clear breaths of air into his lungs. He knows he’s probably red-faced and a mess, but he doesn’t care. He likes it, wants Armie to see the evidence of what they’ve been doing so clearly all over his face. Staring at Armie’s face now, he sees the unmistakable desire painted on it, how he’s oh so close. Armie cups his jaw with one giant hand, lets his thumb run across his lips, then through the spit and precome gathered at the corners and on his chin, smearing it everywhere.

“Wanna come on my face?” Timmy asks casually, unable to keep the smirk off his lips. He sees the words hit Armie, watches as it takes him a second to process them, can’t help his smirk from getting even bigger when it seems like he comprehends. Watches as his eyes flash. 

The next moment Armie’s heaving himself up slightly, just enough to grab at the side of Timmy’s head, latching onto his curls again. Falls back into the couch, pulling Timmy with him, other hand already stroking his dick. Timmy feels the puff of air from the tiny disturbance the movement made, lands with a close-up view of Armie’s cock, his lips a breath away from touching down on the tip. He sticks out his tongue.

Looks up at Armie from beneath his eyelashes. Armie’s hand is a blur in his peripheral vision, his face clear, beautiful and shining. Timmy will probably never get over the view from this perspective. He sinks back on his heels so he can improve the angle slightly, so that Armie’s come will land more directly on his tongue. 

Armie is panting above him, stroking his cock to the sight of Timmy’s upturned face, gaze flicking between his open mouth and his eyes. 

“You want my come?” Timmy is immediately nodding his head in quick little jabs; he wants it so badly. “Yeah?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” he whispers softly, licks his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” Armie says breathlessly. Timmy feels his cock twitch within the confines of his pair of borrowed underwear, feels the material struggle to stretch, tight as it already was to begin with. His heart picks up as he anticipates what’s coming next, watching the rapid pace of Armie’s hand as it moves over his cock. He can’t help himself as he ducks down briefly to lick at Armie’s balls, taking one of them into his mouth only for a second before releasing it with a loud, and oddly satisfying, _pop_.

Come starts spurting out of Armie’s cock before he’s fully got a chance to open his mouth again; he does it quickly, tries to catch the droplets before they fall anywhere else.

Armie lets out the most beautiful noises as he empties himself into Timmy’s mouth, onto his lips and chin. After sticking his tongue out to lap at the jizz streaked across his face, Timmy closes his mouth around the tip of Armie’s dick and swallows. He sucks lightly until Armie hisses and pushes him gently away.

Timmy sits back on his heels again, rests there while he catches his breath. Gazes up at Armie, who’s panting with his eyes closed, his face shining with sweat. After a few breaths he rubs a hand over his face, opens his eyes and looks down at Timmy.

The come and spit is drying on his lips and chin, making his skin feel tight, so Timmy tries to lick it away further, even though he’s probably only making it worse. He sees Armie’s eyes track the movement of his tongue as it makes the first couple of swipes, which were performed casually, perfunctorily. But as soon as he notices, Timmy makes each lick more deliberate, turning his face a little so he’s looking at Armie from a more seductive angle. He moans a little for effect, playing it up a little, but underneath it all, he’s genuinely enjoying being covered in Armie’s come, the taste of him.

Armie stares at him for a while, eyes glazed over, until he seems to realize what Timmy is doing and snaps out of his reverie. 

“Get up here,” he growls in fake exasperation. Timmy’s immediately raising up to his knees, pushing into the carpet while grabbing onto Armie’s thighs to hoist himself up, making a clumsy landing on Armie’s chest with his knees hovering close to the floor, face buried in the crook of Armie’s neck. He feels strong arms wrap around him, one hand resting at the back of his head as the other takes its place on his lower back, starts to stroke gently there.

“Such a good boy,” Armie whispers next to his ear. Timmy sighs.

They breathe together for a few moments, Armie no doubt enjoying his post-orgasmic glow, both enjoying the closeness with one another. Timmy snuggles into Armie, swiping nose and lips against the soft skin of his neck playfully. Kisses the spots he just nuzzled, pressing close when he’s done.

“Did you like my surprise?” he asks, smirking against skin now.

“Hmm. Which one?” Armie shoots back.

“Both of them,” he replies, voice slightly muffled from where it’s pressed against Armie. He feels him give a single shake, a silent chuckle.

“Mostly.”

“Was I bad?” Timmy asks, putting on a slightly affected, husky voice. He feels Armie’s hand squeeze at the back of his neck, smiles against his skin. There’s a beat before Armie replies.

“I can let the first one slide because I did enjoy showing you off. But the second one…” he trails off for a second, playing with the curls at the back of Timmy’s head. “That one made things very difficult for me.” Timmy stifles his laughter, trying not to let it shake him.

“Do you think anyone heard?” he asks, attempting innocence.

“Oh, so you care about that now?” Armie tugs at his hair, and Timmy can hear the amusement in his voice. Feels a hand slip into the waistband of his sweatpants and slide against his bare skin.

“So I was mostly good?” Timmy smiles again, enjoying their post-scene banter, how it feels easy and comfortable, how he can’t seem to help himself.

“Mostly,” Armie repeats, slipping his hand further into Timmy’s sweatpants. The tips of his fingers, then his palm, slide over the elastic waistband of the borrowed jockstrap and quickly find nothing but bare skin. Timmy shivers and unconsciously pushes his hips against Armie slightly, buries his face further into his neck. But he’s quickly pulled back by the hand at his nape, is greeted with the sight of Armie’s questioning look, his slightly darkened eyes. 

“What’s going on in here?” Armie asks, eyeing him suspiciously. Timmy mashes his lips together, stifling his reaction. He’s blushing slightly at being caught out, but he’s not really all that sorry.

Armie’s finds the elastic band sitting snugly just under his bum and digs one finger underneath it, lets it snap back lightly within the confines of his sweatpants. His eyes flick between Timmy’s, but when he doesn’t get a response out of him he makes a decision for them both. Pulls Timmy back into his body by his neck, hand escaping back from under his waistband til it’s free.

“Let’s see,” he says, pushing the waistband down in one smooth motion until it’s hooked under Timmy’s ass cheek, sitting in tandem with the elastic of the jockstrap. A finger goes under the strap above his ass this time, slides back and forth against his lower back teasingly.

“Are these mine?” he asks, and Timmy nods into his neck, although he’s sure he can already tell. Armie leans his head down so his mouth is lined up with Timmy’s ear.

“You little thief.” Timmy squirms against him, his arousal rushing back to the forefront at Armie’s words - the way he’s said them coupled with the warm breath they were carried on sending goosebumps down Timmy’s side.

Armie keeps Timmy pressed against him so he can survey the planes of his bare ass, run his fingers over and under the elastic straps at random. Timmy’s mouth drops open as Armie explores, and he can feel his own hot breaths bounce back at him as they puff against Armie’s skin.

“You like wearing my things?” Armie asks him, finger under the elastic at his lower back, stretching it away from his skin. When Timmy nods he lets it go, makes it snap back against him. He can’t help the small, sharp breath he inhales through his teeth at the accompanying sting.

“No, you like stealing my things,” Armie muses, clarifying his previous question, running his finger along the same elastic band he’d just snapped til he reaches Timmy’s crease, dipping into it lightly. Timmy gasps against him. “That’s kinda naughty, don’t you think?” Armie’s lips are dangerously close to Timmy’s ear again, and he’s speaking directly into it. Each sound is a swell of vibration that moves through him, wave after wave, and Timmy feels like he’s drowning in them.

“What should I do about that, hm? Do you want me to spank you for it?” Timmy’s entire body clenches at that, and a moan escapes him when his muscles relax a moment later.

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes,” he says breathlessly, the word leaving his lips on a puff of air.

“Hm?” Armie demands, jostling him slightly by the hand still at the back of his neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” he says obediently, voice a little clearer. 

“You love stealing my things, yeah?” Timmy makes an affirmative sound. Armie grasps at his asscheek, his palm warm against Timmy’s skin, uses his grip to jiggle it slightly. “And you kept this one a secret. Didn’t you?” He digs his fingers into Timmy’s ass, making him shift as he writhes a little bit. He nods against Armie’s shoulder.

With both hands, Armie grips him tighter. “What was that?” 

“Yes, I did.”

As soon as Timmy replies there’s a loud smack on his ass. He jolts as he winces, out of surprise rather than pain, and then moans as the feeling registers. In the aftermath of the slap, his ass is tingling slightly, making him feel warm and floaty. His borrowed jockstrap is feeling incredibly tight, and he squirms a little to get some relief from the pressure, or some friction against his dick, or maybe both.

Armie grips tighter at both his neck and ass, pulls him up to readjust their position. Timmy takes the opportunity to fling one leg over Armie’s, half straddling his lap with his head on his shoulder, lips against his skin.

“You liked hiding this from me while you were sucking me off, hmm?”

“Yes,” Timmy answers, voice slightly higher pitched, bracing for the oncoming smack. He braces himself further, brings his hands up to grip at Armie wherever he can reach him, but they’re pulled away immediately, swiftly secured behind his back. All his muscles stay taut but he doesn’t fight Armie’s grip on him. 

He feels how hard his cock is, where it’s pressed against Armie’s thigh. He wants to move, to get some friction, but he doesn’t have much leverage in this position. Despite that his instinct is to stay where Armie put him, to be good for him. He takes a breath, tries to loosen his muscles, to relax.

But he finds that hard to do when Armie’s fingers brush across his cheek and tangle into his hair. He registers the hand on his face, the pressure against his own hands behind his back, and realizes that Armie’s holding him with only one of his.

Just one hand. He gets harder still.

Squirms a little at the thought of being held down by Armie with so little effort, forgets to stay still with all the blood rushing out of his brain and into his ever-thickening cock.

Armie uses the twist of his fingers in Timmy’s curls to bring their faces together, strokes a thumb across his cheek. Tightens the grip on Timmy’s hands behind his back, asks him “Are you gonna stay still for me?” Gives the hands in his grasp a little squeeze for emphasis.

“Yes, I…” he answers, trailing off before he finishes his thought. The close-up view of Armie’s face is mesmerizing, and he gets lost in his eyes. He forgets what he was going to say anyway.

“You’re trying so hard, aren’t you?” Armie’s smirk is back in place, a look of fondness in his eyes. 

Timmy gives a tiny nod against his shoulder, the sounds of his head scraping against Armie’s t-shirt amplified from how his ear is pressed against him.

Armie breaks their gaze, looks over Timmy’s shoulder again and gives him another smack. Then turns back to his face to watch his reaction. Timmy can see his smile start to form as he closes his eyes, absorbing the sharp touch and letting the resulting tingles spread out over his entire body.

Letting go of his captured hands, Armie hooks his arm around Tim’s shoulders so that his head is cradled in the pocket formed by his elbow. Kisses him deeply, lips and tongue demanding but soft, letting Timmy respond, moving in tandem with him when he does. Then Armie’s other hand moves from his ass around to the front of his body, where his sweatpants are still covering his hard cock. Their faces are inches away and Timmy can feel Armie’s hot breath on his lips, can make out every differently shaded speck of blue in his eyes.

Timmy shudders as Armie’s hand closes around his dick. The warmth from Armie’s hand seeps through both layers of fabric, each piece of clothing belonging to one of them. Armie’s fingers move along the length of his clothed cock, and the touch is both soft and maddening. Sucking Armie off in secret and having his own little secret discovered has him swept up in a mix of emotions - arousal, excitement, nervousness. He hasn’t exactly gotten Armie’s full stamp of approval regarding the pilfered undies, but he doesn’t really seem to mind it either.

The grip on his hands is gone, so Timmy takes that opportunity to wiggle out of Armie’s grasp and sit up slightly. Armie lets him go, looking at his face curiously. Lets his hand fall from Timmy’s crotch, but Timmy grabs it and pulls it back; stretches the waistband of his sweatpants away from his body and tucks Armie’s hand inside. Hisses as it makes contact, his cock hard and aching. The touch feels so good that he can’t help rocking his hips into it.

“I do like taking your things. This pair is particularly nice. But it’s feeling a little tight on me right now,” he says, looking at Armie’s face as he speaks, slowly gyrating his hips. 

“Can I see?” Armie asks him, making no move to tighten his grip or grab Timmy by the hair again, lets him have complete control instead. Timmy decides he likes this power shift and has the sudden desire to have Armie entirely at his mercy.

Pushing off Armie’s chest, he stands up, placing himself between Armie’s spread legs. The legs he’d previously spread so he could kneel between them. Looking down at Armie, he slides his own sweatpants off and tosses them carelessly to the side.

“Scoot forward,” he tells him, motioning with his hand until Armie’s ass is resting right on the edge of the couch. Timmy’s hands tangle in the soft blond locks he loves and Armie sighs, hands going automatically and easily to the backs of Timmy’s thighs, sliding up to his ass and back down again. 

Timmy keeps a bit of distance between them with his hands on Armie’s head, fingers scratching lightly through his hair. “You like?” he asks him, wiggling his hips minutely.

Armie stares at his crotch, at his own familiar pair of underwear, stretched as it is over a different set of hardware. The mesh pouch of the jockstrap is working miracles containing Timmy’s stiff dick, somehow staying in place, holding strong despite the strong pressure against it. He wants more than anything to get himself out of this fabric prison, but first he wants Armie to have this. To look, to admire.

And Armie does just that, eyes roving over the bulged cloth while his hands play with the straps under each of Timmy’s asscheeks. He looks up at Timmy, his face an open book of adoration and arousal. Keeps looking at him as he brings his face closer, dropping a kiss to the elastic hugging Timmy’s hips. Then another kiss, and another one, until there’s a whole line of kisses moving across the strap.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. Then ducks his head slightly until his mouth rests against the fabric directly over Timmy’s dick. His breath is warm, and Timmy has to close his eyes, tip his head back slightly at the feeling. He’s extremely close, and not sure that he can withstand anything Armie has planned right now. Wants to take back control, but the thread of it is slipping away with the feeling of Armie’s mouth on him. 

And when Armie sticks out his tongue, laps at the mesh, Timmy can feel the wetness seep through the material, can feel how close he is to coming.

“I’m close,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Armie looks up, wicked smile on his face. Timmy nods. “Think you could come like this?”

“In…” Timmy trails off, realizing what he means. It’s Armie’s turn to nod.

Timmy doesn’t answer immediately, still trying to gather his thoughts, and apparently that’s too long for Armie, who ducks down to lick at him again. “I bet you could,” he tells him. 

Timmy sucks in a breath. He feels his grasp on control of this situation slip away further. 

Armie brings his hand up to Timmy’s crotch, touches the tips of his fingers to the mesh pouch, rubs back and forth against it softly. “You’re leaking already, aren’t you?” 

Timmy leans his head back, lets one of his hands slip from Armie’s hair down to his shoulder, grips at him weakly there. He feels Armie rub at the mesh covering his dick some more, then squeeze him through the material. Timmy whimpers helplessly, swears he feels a bit of precome glob to the surface of his dick and immediately soak through the material of the jockstrap.

“So wet for me.” 

Any sense of control is lost completely by now, and he’s unable to get it back because of the spell Armie is weaving with his words, because of how close he’s been this entire time, because of how undeniably hot all of this has been. His eyes are shut, his head thrown back, breath coming in fast pants.

Armie ducks down to mouth at his cock, pressing hard, at the same time that he uses both hands to spread his cheeks, exposing his hole. And that’s all it takes. Before he can stop it, Timmy feels himself reach the peak of orgasm and fall over to the other side, feels himself spurting into the mesh, his cock twitching relentlessly inside the borrowed undergarment. He digs his fingers into Armie’s shoulders as he fills the pouch with his come. 

When the more violent spurts have subsided, he pitches forward, curving his body over Armie’s seated form. Feels strong hands on his hips, lets his head fall on Armie’s shoulder, where he pants against him.

After a few breaths, he feels Armie pull back slightly, then registers the wet pressure of his tongue on his spent, still-covered cock. He feels so sensitive now, and the touch makes his upper body twitch into a semi-standing position as it makes his knees buckle slightly. He flops down into Armie’s lap, ends up sitting sideways on one thigh. Looking down, he sees his own legs tucked between Armie’s, his now-soiled borrowed jockstrap, and the slightly crooked waistband of Armie’s sweatpants. At some point, he must have pulled it back up, tucked himself away in a hurry.

Armie leans back slightly, straightens out the waistband, wiggling his hips to get it in its right place, bouncing Timmy on his lap slightly in the process. Leans back up and brings his arm around Timmy’s back, other hand cupping at his face.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Timmy tells him softly. “I loved it.” Armie’s thumb swipes over his bottom lip and he tries to chase it with his tongue, but misses as Armie’s hand falls away from his face. He’s mesmerized by the look in Armie’s eyes, feels unable to break his gaze, until Armie looks down, and Timmy follows the path his eyes travel.

“Look at the mess you made, baby,” Armie says, hand moving towards Timmy’s crotch again. But Timmy stops him with a hand around his wrist, brings it up to his mouth to kiss over Armie’s fingers in apology.

“Sensitive,” he explains between kisses to the pads of Armie’s fingers. Stares into his eyes as he takes the tip of his pointer finger between his lips, sucking lightly.

“You have a perfect fucking mouth.” Armie’s a little breathless, eyes wide and trained on Timmy’s face.

Timmy can’t help smirking around the digit he’s sucking on, releases it to let his smile grow. He raises an eyebrow in question and asks, “Perfect for fucking?”

That seems to snap Armie out of it, and he tries to look exasperated as he grabs at Timmy, matching smile growing on his face as he jostles him slightly. Timmy pretends to try to wiggle free of Armie’s grip for a moment before giggling as he leans into him and meets his mouth halfway in a kiss. It lingers, and their lips smack softly as they separate, smiles reappearing on each of their faces.

“Go get yourself cleaned up, you’re filthy,” Armie tells him playfully, slapping lightly at his side. 

“Yes, sir,” Timmy says, putting on a slightly affected voice, deeper than his normal one. Armie slaps him again in response, then pushes Timmy off his lap, lightheartedly shoving at him to get him going. Timmy’s legs are shaky, and he giggles as he finds his balance, giddy with the knowledge of everything they’ve just done, bursting with adoration and love for Armie, for what they’ve created together.

He looks into Armie’s eyes and finds his own mirth and devotion reflected back at him there. Keeps looking over his shoulder as he walks away, breaking his gaze only when he absolutely has to.

***

Timmy comes out of the bathroom into the main living area, still wet from his shower. Sees Armie on the couch, typing away at his phone.

“What are you doing?” he asks lazily, feeling relaxed from his hot shower, a little tired from this afternoon’s scene.

“Just setting up the next Zoom meeting with the chefs. We’ve gotta iron out some details and finish talking about…” Armie trails off as he looks up from his phone. Timmy is smirking at him, eyes dancing with amusement.

When Armie’s lips quirk into a matching smirk, continue stretching into a full-on smile, Timmy can’t help but follow.

They simply stare at each other, grinning like fools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys with all my heart. Writing them has brought me so much joy.
> 
> Please remember this is an *established* relationship where we've only gotten to see glimpses of their negotiations. I want to convey their closeness and trust in each other through what they do intimately with each other. I hope that comes across.
> 
> If you want connect with me on tumblr, I'm trashfortimmyx.
> 
> xoxo


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